All That Glitters
by fennecfawkes
Summary: Neville/Harry, Ron/Hermione. Sequel to Brilliant. When Ron and Hermione hit a rough patch, Neville and Harry do what they can to help while reexamining their own relationship. Not epilogue compliant, not my characters.
1. Where They Might Have Gone Wrong

"I love Saturdays," Harry says to me.

"I know you do." I roll toward him and press a kiss on the side of his head. I look at the clock. It's going on noon and we're still in bed after a week of missed deadlines for me and nerve wracking cases for him. Now we've got a day off and very little to do with it. "What do you want to do today?"

He stretches his arms over his head and folds his hands beneath his head. "I don't know. Nothing, really. We could take Ali into Hogsmeade for lunch, maybe."

"How soon you forget that Saturdays at Hogwarts have everything to do with Quidditch and nothing to do with anything else."

"That's fair. He probably doesn't miss us yet, anyway."

"Oh, sod off. He writes us more than once a month. Do you have any idea how unusual that is?"

"It is unusual, isn't it?"

"Yes. And he does it just as much as he did his first year. I figured it would drop off after that."

"Our son's a second year at Hogwarts," says Harry.

"I know," I say. "It's surreal and wonderful and I love it. Now, today."

"Yes. Today. Waffles? Want me to make waffles?"

"There are blueberries in the greenhouse."

"Is that at all relevant?"

I roll my eyes. "I want you to put blueberries in the waffles."

"Oh. That does sound good."

"I'm going to shower. Thank you for making breakfast."

"Don't thank me till it's done."

I come downstairs 15 minutes later to a plateful of waffles, a tall glass of orange juice, and Ron Weasley slumped over at the kitchen counter. I sit down next to him after giving Harry, who's putting waffles on a plate of his own, a kiss on the cheek.

"Nice to see you, Ron," I say. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" I look at Harry, whose eyes are wide. He shakes his head. I turn to Ron, who looks pretty worse for the wear—haggard, even, with red-rimmed eyes and rumpled clothes.

"Hermione ... Hermione and I have been fighting a bit, and she—we—we decided we're going to take a break. And I was wondering if, if I could stay here with the two of you for a couple weeks until she's decided ... till things are alright again."

I put my hand on Ron's shoulder. Looking at Harry, I nod. He nods back, and I say, "Of course, Ron. Whatever we can do, we're here for you. I'll just go set up a guest room."

I walk upstairs to one of the extra bedrooms. As I make up the bed, in my mind, I go over the past few visits we've had with Ron and Hermione, searching for clues, trying to determine when and where they might have gone wrong. I can't think of anything, just the two of them smiling and holding hands and fixing dinner and begging us to put the kids to bed so they can watch _Graham Norton_. I go back to the kitchen, where Ron and Harry are talking quietly, heads bent together, tones hushed.

"It's happened really quickly," says Ron. I start to walk back out of the room, but Harry waves me over. I take him by the elbow and the three of us go out onto the deck, where I hope Ron can find the strength to enjoy the unseasonably warm October day. I resist the urge to pull Harry onto my lap, knowing that we're not 25 anymore and now might not exactly be the best time.

"When'd it start?" Harry asks Ron.

"It was a few weeks ago, I guess. Hermione's just ... her temper's so much shorter. And everything I do seems to bother her."

"And what made you ... why'd you leave?" I ask.

"We were just having a normal conversation," Ron said, running both hands through his hair. "And I said something about how it was too bad I'd had to work so much lately, how it seemed like she maybe wasn't thrilled about that either, and she just kind of snapped. She said I didn't understand how important it was that she stay home with Rhiannon, just as important as my job, and why don't I support her more? Why don't I get more time off for our daughter?

"I said that maybe it would be easier to support her if she were there for me to support, rather than just sniping at me when I want to spend time with her, and she said that was unfair. That's when she said we should take a bit of a break, get some air, see where we're at in a couple weeks or so. She offered to go live with Ginny and Dean, but I knew they wouldn't actually want that, and they don't have enough room for the two of them and Dora as it is. I really hope this isn't an imposition." He looks from Harry to me.

"It's no trouble at all, Ron," I say. Harry nods his agreement. "However long you need to be here, you can be here. I'm really sorry."

"I hope I'm not interrupting any of your plans," says Ron.

"No, nothing going on here today beyond waffles," Harry says, smiling. "Anything you want to do?"

Ron shrugs. "Right now I should probably shower, straighten up and all. Also, could you ... could you Floo over to my house, get me some of my things? If that's not too much to ask."

"Yeah, we'll do that," I say. "Have at anything you want. Eat, drink, whatever."

"Thanks. Really. So much." Ron nods and walks upstairs. When I hear the shower, I turn and look at Harry, then find him in my arms.

"God," he says. "Ron and Hermione."

"I know."

"I was thinking, and I can't, there's just nothing I can think of that was leading up to this."

"I know. I couldn't think of anything, either."

"What do we do?"

"Be their friends, I think. We can't fix it. But we can be there for them. And not just Ron. I know it's easier with him here, and, well, he's Ron, and right now we only know his side. You know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah. Should we go to their place, then?"

"Probably. Is it ill timing to tell you that I love you?"

"Never."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

I kiss him and we step into the fireplace, powder in hand.


	2. There's Not Much To Say

"Hermione?" I call into the Granger-Weasleys' living room. "Are you here?"

Hermione rushes into the room. "Hello, Harry. Hello, Neville." She smiles, looking nervous. "Come in. I assume Ron's been to your house, then."

Nev nods. "He asked if we'd come get some of his things. I'll go and do that." He walks upstairs, leaving me alone with Hermione. I take a step toward her and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Are you OK? Do you want to talk about it?"

She sighs. "I don't know. There's not much to say. Do you want a cup of tea? Will Neville?"

"Sure."

I settle down onto the couch. A few minutes later, Hermione comes in and hands me a mug. I take a sip.

"This is good. What'd you add?"

"Saffron. Neville's suggestion." She smiles, though it's shaky. "What did Ron have to say, then?"

"That you've been fighting a bit." I choose my words carefully. "And that there's been some misunderstanding of how important it is to pay attention to Rhiannon rather than work."

"He said that?"

"I might be extrapolating. When, Hermione? When did this start happening?"

Hermione sighs. "It was around the time Rose and Hugo went back to Hogwarts. I just started noticing these little things. Bickering didn't seem to have the same humor as it used to. What Ron was saying, it sounded more like attacks and critiques than actual jokes."

"Like what?"

"Well, I can't think of any specific examples. You have to have noticed when you've been with us."

"No, I can honestly say I hadn't noticed anything was wrong at all."

"Maybe we're just very good at hiding it." Hermione frowns. "He didn't tell you about the banquet, then?"

"Banquet?"

"I would call that the inciting incident, if there really was anything like that. I found out from Hannah—Hannah Abbott, do you remember her?" I nod. "She told me that there was an Auror banquet last week and wondered why she hadn't seen me there. I said Ron hadn't told me about it and asked him about it. He always used to love those events. But when I asked, he just shrugged and said I seemed to find Rhiannon more important than his work activities."

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."

"That's just it." Hermione's voice breaks as Neville comes down the stairs and sits on her other side. "Ron doesn't think before he talks. He doesn't understand that sometimes, saying exactly what you feel isn't the thing to do."

"I don't know Ron as well as either of you," Nev says, some hesitation in his tone. "But from what I can gather, he's always been that way. And I think that sometimes that honesty might come in handy."

Hermione nods and wipes at her eyes with her sleeve. I sling an arm around her and she smiles at me. "I've always liked it in him, but now it's just not so appealing as it used to be." She sighs deeply. "Maybe I'm just growing up, getting older, feeling like I'm past the way I was when we were teenagers. I'm 31 years old. Neither of us should be exactly like the people we were at 17."

"And have you told Ron any of this?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I just don't think he'd listen."

"I think he might," says Neville in the gentlest tone he ever uses. I smile at him over Hermione's head and he smiles back, as shyly as the day we got together. "If you just told him how important this all is, I really think he'd hear you and try to understand you."

"Maybe," Hermione says. "For now, though, I just want to take a bit of time to think. We both need that, even if it comes as a surprise to Ron." Rhiannon takes that moment to streak into the room.

"Mum, my magic's acting up again," she says, her expression serious. Rhiannon's about the most somber 8-year-old in the world. "Can you help me? Hi, Uncle Harry. Hi, Uncle Neville."

"Hi, Rhiannon," we reply in unison.

"I'll be right upstairs, sweetie," says Hermione. Rhiannon rushes back to her room and Hermione looks from me to Neville and back again. "Thank you both for listening. I don't think you know how much it means to me that you'd want to hear what I have to say after hearing Ron's side first."

"What kind of friends do you think we are?" I smile at her kindly. "We love you, Hermione. Of course we want to know what you're feeling. And if you ever need to talk, we're here. One or the other of us will be ready to listen. Both, maybe, if you're lucky."

Hermione smiles, not so shaky this time. Neville stands up. I see him reach his hand toward me then pull it back, as if he doesn't want to touch in front of Hermione. I nod and stand. "We'll see you later, Hermione. Let us know if you need anything." Taking Ron's things into his hand, Neville steps into the fireplace and I go along with him.

Once we're back in our living room, we settle down onto our couch. Nev slides his arm around my shoulder and I lean my head against it.

"Pretty bleak," he says.

"Yeah."

"And I don't know if they'll even talk to each other."

"Yeah."

"Harry..."

"What?"

"Thank you. Thank you for telling me when I'm doing something that gets to you, and for letting me do the same to you."

"Of course." I raise my head and look at his face, his deep brown, green-flecked eyes and their laugh lines and the single crease on his forehead that came from furrowing his brow in concentration one time too often. "I'm never not going to listen to you, Nev. I love you too much for that. And I know that Ron and Hermione love each other, but I think they could take a lesson from you."

He kisses me on the forehead after brushing my hair out from in front of it. "I love you, too. More all the time, really. Even though you've started snoring and won't shut up about how badly we need a dog."

I laugh. "Don't you want a new pet now that Gilly's using the big litter box in the sky?"

"Hey. I'm really sensitive about that." Nev didn't like his cat at all by the end, with her incontinence and her shedding and her habit of tearing up the plants in the greenhouse. Not that a dog would be much better, but I'm trying to convince him otherwise.

Ron walks downstairs then. He looks much less rough, though he's still clad in only a towel. "Thanks for getting my stuff," he says. "How was Hermione?"

"I think she needs some time," I say. "But she'll be willing to talk soon, I'm sure."

Ron nods. "I'm going to go back upstairs and unpack. Thanks again. Really."

Neville and I both nod. He walks away and we look at each other.

"He'll be a better houseguest than Seamus," Nev says, recalling the three long months Finnegan spent with us after going on a coke-fueled bender in Northern Island.

"Yeah, no relapses or withdrawal," I say. "Well, we have a new project on our hands, don't we?"

"Operation Get Them Back Together. We'll have to think of a catchier name."

"I'll leave that to you. You're the clever one."

"And you're the saving-people one. So go do it."

I laugh, kiss him on the cheek, and make a show of rolling up my sleeves. "It's what I do best."


	3. I Won't Grow Out Of You

"We could call him Trevor, right? As a tribute?"

Harry laughs and I wonder how seriously he's taking me. It's just crossed into December, and we're standing at a pet store window, both gazing longingly at a black Labrador puppy.

"Hedwig was twice the pet Trevor ever was," he says. "At least she had a personality. And I never lost her."

"Trevor was a free spirit. Otherwise he might've been boring and stayed put." I slip my hand through Harry's and we walk up the block to Piemaker, a meat pie shop. We're in Edinburgh, the Old Town half, on a day trip. For Ron, "a couple weeks" just turned into "two months," and Harry and I both desperately needed a break. Ron and Hermione still hadn't spoken, and it was beginning to wear on Ron's formerly benevolent hosts.

"So, have we decided what we're going to do about him yet?" Harry asks.

"Trevor, you mean? Our dog? I suppose we should wait till Ali can weigh in on the decision. Can you wait three weeks?"

He smiles. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do. And I don't know. We can't just chuck him out, right?"

"He's 30 years old. He should be able to get the hint." We've been progressively less friendly to Ron; we want the house back to ourselves again with no worry of him stumbling in after two in the morning, reeking of whiskey and shame.

"Well, apparently neither of them is mature enough to take any kind of next step."

"Yeah, I wondered about that," says Harry. "I thought Hermione would be the one to step up, but it's been two months and there's just nothing from her."

"Think it's time to pay her a visit?" I ask.

"It might be. Rhi's got to be asking questions by now."

"Right. And they owe it to her to tell her something, whether they're getting back together or staying apart or whatever they decide to do. Do you think they'd ever actually get a divorce, Harry?"

Harry breathes a heavy sigh. "Dunno, Nev. If you'd asked me even a year ago I would've laughed at you for even thinking of it. Now, who knows?"

We walk into the shop and order the same thing we always do—two chicken tikkas, four chocolate chip cookies, and three bottles of Dr. Pepper, one and a half for each of us.

"Been a while since I've seen you two here," says Katie McLaggen, formerly Bell, who happens to cashier at the best meat pie shop in Scotland. She grins broadly. "Day trip, then?"

"You know us well," Harry says. "How's it going, Katie?"

"Good. Cormac's just gotten a promotion and I've just gotten pregnant, so, big news all around."

"Congratulations!" Harry and I say in unison.

Harry looks at me, disgusted. "We have to quit doing that. I thought the 'saying things at the same time' thing would die down after a year of marriage."

"How long have you two been together now?" Katie asks as she hands Harry our order.

"Six years of dating as of last month, five years of marriage next summer," I say.

"And how's Ali?"

"Brilliant," says Harry. "His Ravenclaw pride is overwhelming. Just last month, he wrote and asked if we could repaint over the red in his room."

"Ouch," Katie says sympathetically.

"No, it's good. I think he was glad to get sorted in a house where his name wasn't quite as celebrated," I say, still believing it.

"I'm on break as of half a minute ago," Katie says, looking at her wristwatch. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all." And so the three of us sit down together. As Harry and I tuck in, Katie looks back and forth between us.

"So, is it true about Ron and Hermione?" she asks, sounding tentative.

"Is that public knowledge now?" Harry sounds surprised.

"Not quite," says Katie. "It's just, Cormac's office is a few down from Ron's, and there's talk all through their department."

"Yeah, it's true," I say. "Ron's living with us, actually."

"That's what I'd heard. How's that?"

I look at Harry, weighing our options. We don't need to disclose anything. But then, it's Katie. Harry shrugs and says, "Not great. We're hoping they resolve things sooner rather than later."

"And you think they will? Sorry if I'm asking you too much."

"It's fine," I say. "And honestly, Katie, we don't know any better than you do. It's just an impasse right now."

"That's so sad." Katie shakes her head. "They always seemed so solid together. But I suppose not everything lasts forever."

I put my hand on Harry's thigh. He intertwines our fingers. "Yeah," Harry says softly. "I suppose it doesn't. But enough of all that. How's the pregnancy going?"

Katie's expression brightens. "Good! Really good, actually. My mum never had morning sickness with me and she passed that on, bless her. We just found out at the last appointment with my doctor that it's a boy. Cormac's thrilled about that."

Harry grins. "I wanted a boy really badly, too. Nev wanted a girl, poor bastard."

"Ali was a nice alternative," I say. "Have you thought of names?"

"Cormac wants a Cormac Jr., but I think he knows that's not happening." We laugh. "And I really like the name Seamus, but Cormac's not keen on the idea of naming our son the same thing as my drug-addled ex-boyfriend. Which I guess I understand. You two got lucky, Alistair already having such a nice name."

"It is nice. And it sounds very authoritative when you use his whole name," says Harry.

We stay and chat a bit. Upon leaving, Harry loops an arm around my waist, and I put one of mine across his shoulders.

"So, do you think Ron and Hermione know they're gossip material now?" he asks me.

"I hope not," I say. "Maybe it'd be better for him to hear it from us than at the water cooler, though."

"Think it might motivate him to do something?"

"Hadn't thought of that, but yeah, it actually might. See, this is what I've been telling you all along. You're the brains here."

"That is so unbelievably far from true." Harry shakes his head. "It was nice to see Katie, wasn't it?"

"It was. I always forget she dated Seamus."

"That's because it's incredibly bizarre. She's so sweet and polite and he's so ... so Seamus."

I laugh. "That he is. Let's not torture ourselves by going back past the pet shop again, OK? I really do think Ali should know if we're going to get a dog. And maybe we'll put it off till summer so he can be around it when it's a puppy."

"You're way too good a dad," Harry says with a sigh. "Anything else we have to do around here?"

"Oh, I don't think we've been away from Ron nearly enough. We could go see a film."

"Let's do that. Then let's get sushi, and then let's get dessert somewhere else, and then let's get drinks somewhere other than _that_, and I think then maybe, just maybe, we'll have been away from Ron long enough."

"I like the way you think, Mr. Potter."

"And I like how you still call me that, Mr. Potter."

"We're not nearly as old as you think we are. That's something I'll never grow out of."

"And I won't grow out of you."

"Oh, now that's just a bit over the top, don't you think?" I kiss him on the top of his head.

"And that isn't?"

"Point taken. Now, let's go see a film and complain about how today's directors have nothing on Billy Wilder before gorging ourselves on sushi, ice cream, and other things Ali would be jealous of."

"Sounds like my kind of night."


	4. In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning

It's New Year's Day before Nev and I decide we need to confront Ron, Hermione, or both of them. Part of our influence comes from Ali, who is not at all accepting of Ron's presence in our home.

"I like Uncle Ron," he says to us over dinner on Christmas Eve, the first of four days Ron spends at the Burrow, much to our relief—splitting our time between a brooding Ron and a frustrated Ali was not an appealing idea. "But I also like Auntie Hermione, and they're much nicer when they're together."

"I agree, Ali," says Neville around a mouthful of my newly perfected meatloaf. "Good loaf, by the way. Can't even taste the cumin. You must have been more sparing than usual." I try not to grin too widely. "Anyway, Ali, sometimes, couples can't work things out and need some space."

"But how much? You and Dad hardly ever fight, and you always make up before you go to bed. You said that's a rule. You even have it pinned up on the wall above the bed, 'No Fighting Zone.'"

I smile. That was Nev's idea. "Not every couple is like us, though. Some couples just argue more."

"Yeah, but if they're in love, they should forgive each other," Ali says, brow furrowed. "Uncle Ron's not happy at all here. He's not fun. And I don't think you should have to be with him all the time."

"Neither do we, Ali," I say. "What do you think we should do?"

"Talk to him," says Ali decisively. "Tell him to talk to Auntie Hermione. He's not going to be happy till he does."

"Good to know we're taking the sage advice of a 12-year-old," Neville says to me just over a week later on the 1st, when Ali's spending the day at Andromeda's with her and Teddy before coming home for two more days, then heading back to Hogwarts.

"It's better than anything we've thought of," I say. "And remember, he's the smartest 12-year-old in the universe. You've said so yourself."

"I never said that knowledge extended to whether a couple should divorce or not."

"Ali didn't offer his opinion on that," I say, stepping into the fireplace and taking him by the hand. "But I'm pretty sure he would say no."

We decide to talk to Hermione first, since she's ever so slightly more likely to be reasonable in hearing our advice. I call out her name and Rose is the first to rush forward. Pulling Neville into the living room, she takes me along with him.

"Hi, uncles!" she says in a singsong voice. "Mummy's in the kitchen. We're making biscuits."

"And we won't even burn them this time," says Rhiannon, coming into the room, cheeks and hands covered in flour. She hugs me around the waist and goes to Neville next.

"You've got flour all over your back now," Nev observes, patting down my shirt.

"Bet you do, too," I say, grinning in spite of the conversation we're hoping to have. I turn to the girls. "Could you get your mum for us?"

Rhiannon nods seriously and sprints out of the room.

"How's Hogwarts, Rose?" Neville asks.

Rose's eyes go wide. She's a first year. "Wonderful! I love Charms so much, and Professor Flitwick says I'm so good at it, just as good as my mum was in her first year."

"Can't believe Flitwick's still teaching," Harry says fondly. "What about Defence and Herbology? You like those?"

She shrugs. "They're fine. Charms is the best, though."

"I might disagree with that," says Harry. "You know we both taught at Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes, I do. Everyone says you were the best. _Everyone_." She rolls her eyes as only an 11-year-old girl can. "I'm going to go tell Hugo you're here. Bye!" Rose turns on her heel and tears up the stairs just as Hermione and Rhiannon come back in the room.

"Happy New Year," says Hermione, smiling. "Want a biscuit?"

"Did you burn them this time?" I ask seriously. Hermione cuffs me on the arm and we walk into the kitchen after her and Rhiannon, who hands each of us a biscuit.

"Rhiannon, go see if your sister will set up a film for you," says Hermione.

"The _Doctor Who _special?"

"Whatever you want."

Rhiannon scampers away and Hermione looks at us. Rolling her eyes, she says, "I suppose you're ready for Ron to get out of your house, then."

"Well, that's one way to get down to it," Nev says with a nervous laugh.

"Hermione, have you even talked to him in the last two months?" I ask. "You look great, and happy, and settled, but he's a wreck. He needs you. He needs the kids. Has he seen them?"

She nods and says swiftly, "Yes. We were all at the Burrow for Christmas. Molly and Arthur still don't know that anything's gone wrong, and we wanted to keep it that way."

"It's not like you to be dishonest with them," Neville says quietly.

"No," she agrees. "But we're protecting them. They don't need this after Percy and Audrey." Percy split with his wife a couple years ago, and Molly still hasn't quite recovered.

"Did you talk to him, then?" I ask. "Is that why he smelled even more like whiskey than usual when he got back to our house?"

"He's drinking?" Hermione's face goes pale.

"He's miserable, Hermione," says Neville. "You need to talk to him, and you need to do it soon. Otherwise there's no telling what happens." His tone balances out the melodrama of the statement, which, when I think about it, really isn't so melodramatic at all. Ron _is _unpredictable when he's upset. It happened in the Forest of Dean, and it's happening now. And only Hermione can help him out.

Hermione swallows hard and nods. "Right. Well. I'll need a few days, wait till the kids are back at school before I call him over."

"But you'll do that?" I ask.

She nods again. "Yes. And Harry? Neville? Thank you. Thank you for taking care of him. I think it's my turn again."

I smile and put my arms around her just long enough for her to hug back. As Neville hugs her, I say, "Happy New Year, Hermione."

"Think she'll be OK?" Nev asks me as we step back through our own fireplace.

"Now? Yes. Before she sees Ron? She'll be a wreck. But at least it's for the right reasons."

"Ali's right, you know." Neville puts a hand on either side of my waist after waving his wand at the record player, queuing Frank Sinatra singing "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning." "We're really good at the whole 'not fighting' thing."

I loop my arms around his neck and we slip into a box step, a Ministry party standard. "We just don't have that kind of personality. Ron's stubborn, Hermione's just as much, and they tend to clash."

"You're stubborn, too. You're horribly stubborn."

"Yeah, but it's about stupid, silly things. Making sure we go to the Quidditch Cup every year, not naming our imaginary dog Trevor, that kind of stuff. I'm not one to fight when things are good. It just doesn't seem worth it."

"And if things weren't?" Nev twirls me neatly under his arm and takes the lead, shifting into a waltz we learned for the last party, just to prove that we could do more than one dance together.

"Good? Well, that's never happened, has it?"

"Someday," he says, "there's going to be some hotshot 20-something Auror trainee, and he's going to distract you from me and my grubby, calloused hands and perpetual childlike shyness, and you'll never be forced to listen to Frank Sinatra and dance around your living room again."

"That," I say, "is highly unlikely, because I love your hands, and I love the way your face still flushes when you meet new people, and I love Frankie's voice nearly as much as I love yours. And you know I hate leading."

"If you say so." He grins. "And I promise not to fall for any young herbologists."

"You never could. I'm simply too irresistible."

"That's for damn sure." We do an exaggerated dip move and he kisses me, almost knocking me off balance.

"We hadn't practiced that part," I say.

"We could try it again upstairs," he suggests, and taking me by the hand, we go up to the bedroom, hearts full as ever, Ron and Hermione's plight temporarily out of mind.


	5. No Fighting Zone

"It always feels so pathetic, missing him this quickly," says Harry. We're sitting in the living room, having just dropped Ali off at King's Cross.

"It does," I agree. "But it's only a few more months. Then Ali comes home, we get our dog, we live happily ever after, et cetera, et cetera."

"Good to see Ron and Hermione on the platform together, wasn't it?"

"I think that might have been more for the kids' benefit than anything else. But yes, it was." I pause. "I was just thinking, maybe we should try to have a fight about something, just to see how it feels."

"What?" Harry laughs. "Like, pretend to have a fight because we've never really had one?"

"Yeah, exactly! Maybe I can pretend you've been working too much, even though you clearly haven't, and you think I should be working more, even though I make more money than you do, and we could shout at each other about it a bit, and then have really good makeup sex."

"Fake makeup sex," he corrects me.

"Right. Close enough. I've heard it's brilliant."

"Alright. You're on." Harry's expression goes dark. "Neville, there's something we need to talk about."

"Hey, I thought I was starting this fight."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Here we go." I clear my throat. "Harry, I noticed you didn't come in till 2 am. Is there something going on that we should talk about?"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean, Neville." He picks up the _Prophet _and holds it in front of his face, as if dismissing the importance of our fictitious fight.

"Put that down. We need to talk about this," I say sternly.

Harry keeps the paper in front of his face. "I don't know what the problem is. I was just working till midnight, then I went to the pub with Malfoy and Zabini."

I stand up and rip the paper out of his hands. "Good show!" he says.

"Thanks. I'm really giving it my all here." I smile before trying to look fierce. "I don't even know you anymore, Harry! You're working late, you're spending time with the people you're supposed to loathe, and you don't have any time for me anymore!"

"Maybe if you started pulling your weight around here, I'd make time for you," he snarls, reaching for the paper.

"Ooh, I believed that one," I say.

Harry nods, looking excited. "We're good actors, aren't we?"

"I don't think I'm going to be able to pull off crying, unfortunately." I sit down on the arm of his chair and he tugs me down next to him, though there's not nearly enough room and I end up with half my body on his lap. "We could never really fight. We'd just keep complimenting each other's form."

"Just wait till I do start going to the pub with Draco."

"You calling him by his first name is quite enough for me, thanks." I kiss him on the temple. "I don't get how Ron's able to stay away for so long. I'd miss you like hell after, I don't know, three days." Ron still hasn't moved back in with Hermione, though they have spoken, due mostly to our insistence. We never sat down and talked with Ron, just let Hermione call the shots, as it were. Ron, meanwhile, moved in with Percy, who could use the company and had plenty of extra room in the house he and Audrey built with the idea of having loads of children in mind.

"With you there," Harry agrees, kissing me on the cheek. He puts his arms around me. "Why didn't he move in with Percy in the first place?"

"You know the answer to that question. Percy's his brother, sure. But you're his friend. You're his best friend."

"That's true." He tightens his grip and kisses me.

"You get turned on at the weirdest times."

"Yeah, well, you should take advantage of it while it lasts. I'm getting old, Nev."

"I know you are, which means I am, too, so I guess you're right, and I should get on this before it's gone."

Making love is different now from when we first got together. That was hyper-enthusiastic and frenzied and exhausting. Now, it's slower—not methodical, but we know what we're doing, and we know it's not a race anymore. And it usually happens in the bed, not on the stairs or the couch or deck or whatever relatively flat surface we can find when the need arises. This time's a welcome exception as Harry tugs apart the buttons on my shirt and I pull his jumper over his head.

"Do we have anything else to do today?" he asks between kisses.

"Nothing."

"So I can take as long as I need to?" His teeth graze my collarbone and I involuntarily shiver. OK, so maybe it's not so different from when we were 25.

"As long as you're not intentionally torturing me. You know how I hate that."

"As in you don't hate it at all."

"Right. That." I nip at his earlobe and for once, he shivers. "Oh, would you look at that? Didn't know I still had it in me."

"Course you do," he says against my ear before doing some nipping of his own. "Always will." I feel my eyelids flutter close as his mouth moves from my ear to my jaw and down from there. The last thing I glimpse is the fireplace.

"Harry, what if we get a firecall?"

"Firecall?" He pauses and I hold back a whimper. "Oh. Right. Upstairs, then?"

"Seems like a good idea." I stand up and pull him to his feet before tearing upstairs.

"Eager, aren't we?" Harry laughs as we fall down together on the bed, facing each other. "If that was a race you might've actually won it."

"Kind words, coming from you. Now, we going to do this thing or what?"

He laughs again and attacks me in the most wanted way possible.


	6. Arthur's Seat

"I think this is our best February ever," I tell Nev. We're climbing Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh on another of our day trips.

"You know it's the third day of the month, right?" he asks. "We could, I don't know, I can't think of anything clever right now. But something awful could happen and it would become our worst February ever."

"You're no fun. Think about how great the last three days have been! We visited the castle, we took the piss out of Ali for having a crush on Lavender Brown's daughter—"

"Yeah, I'm sure he loved that."

"We went out to dinner with Ron and Hermione and they nearly almost touched each other at one point—"

"And their hands brushed together when he passed her the salt that one time."

"And now it's not even cold enough for a heavy coat and we're in Edinburgh and everything is perfect!"

"Your standards of perfection aren't as high as I thought." Neville shakes his head and takes a bottle of water out of his pack. After taking a swig, he hands the bottle to me. "This isn't a bad hike, is it?"

"Not too bad. We sprinted it in Auror training."

"No, you didn't."  
>"You're right. But it would've been a good training exercise. I should tell Hestia that." I hand back the water after taking a drink and slip my hand through Neville's.<p>

"I think it's less efficient if we're next to each other rather than single file," he points out.

"I think I don't give two shits about efficiency."

"So eloquent."

I grin and kiss him swiftly on the cheek before the other hikers start staring. "Always. So, you think Ron and Hermione are on the road to recovery, then?"

"Can't say for sure," he says. "I told you I ran into Perce at the Apothecary this week, right?"

"No, why didn't you? That's about ten times more interesting than hearing about journal submissions on the potential hazards of essence of murtlap."

"Hey, those were fascinating," says Nev, mock wounded. "And anyway, it's Percy. How could it have even occurred to me that you'd be interested in hearing about that?"

"Fair point."

"Anyway, Ron's still living with him, but he said that Hermione's been over a few times, and they're starting to seem much more like they used to."

"Brilliant. It'd be nice to have a proper married couple to hang about with again."

"There's always Ginny and Dean," Neville says.

"There's still some weirdness there, though, don't you think?" I ask. "I mean, Gin's great, Dean's perfect for her, but she's..."

Neville nods, as if he's anticipating what I have to say. "She still looks at you."

"Yeah. Good. I wasn't just making that up, then."

"Why do you think I'm never the first to suggest we spend time with them?"

"Are you jealous?" I ask, looking over at Nev, whose brow is furrowed slightly.

"Not jealous, because I know you don't ever think of her that way, and you haven't in over a decade," he says slowly. I nod and squeeze his hand. "It's more of, I don't know, a bit of anger at her for not just getting the fuck over it, you know?"

"It's always a treat to hear you say 'fuck,' Nev."

"I know." The muscles in his face relax, and he gives my hand a squeeze back. "It's just so childish, holding on to something that hasn't been there for so long. And it's got to kill Dean to see it. Because you know if we can both tell, he certainly can."

"Hadn't even thought of that. Poor Dean."

"And it's not like we can do anything about it. If either of us said anything..."

"That'd be a nightmare."

"So I think it's best if we just avoid all social contact with the two of them."

I laugh. "Well, maybe not all. Now that we've gotten so much better at waltzing, there's no way we're skiving off Ministry functions." Both Dean and Ginny work in Spell Damage, Dean full time, and Ginny splitting her time between shifts and taking care of their daughter, Dora.

"Right," says Nev. "Oh, I was thinking about our fake fight and started making a list of the real fights we've had. Want to hear it, see if you can make any contributions?"

"Sure."

"First one, a couple months after we got married. You were talking about how you wanted to put a Quidditch pitch in the backyard, and I said it would cost too much to have one that was even half size, and you said that was a rubbish reason, the greenhouse cost a fortune and you supported me in that anyway."

"Right, I remember that," I say. "And I accused you of not thinking Quidditch was important, and you said, and I quote, 'Well, it isn't, is it?'"

He laughs. "I don't know if I've ever seen your face fall quite like that, before or since. And I apologized like mad, and I had to explain, herbology's my career, Quidditch is your hobby, and I didn't mean it wasn't actually important to you, of course it was."

"And you made the sign, the No Fighting Zone sign, and we had—" I look around to make sure none of the others on the trail are listening. "We had brilliant makeup sex."

"And that was the end of that, until you decided it was time to get a new owl."

"I'm seeing a theme here," I say. "I want something, you think it's stupid, and we fight about it until you see the light."

"Well, we still don't have a proper pitch."

"Yes, we do, it's just less than a quarter size of a real one."

"Right. So you wanted an owl, and I said we had no need for one, and you said that was on face ridiculous, think about how much more convenient our post is than Muggle post. And I wouldn't admit you were right all through making dinner. I wouldn't even talk."

I laugh and say, "The bread knife has never sounded so loud. And I asked you if it was a money thing, and then you said about the cutest thing you ever have: 'I don't want you to forget about Hedwig, Harry.'"

"God. Such a sap."

"And I told you that wasn't possible, and if that's what was bothering you, then it could be _your_ owl, not mine, I'd just borrow it once in a while."

"And that was over. Now, the next one was much, _much_ bigger, but luckily, it started over breakfast so we had a whole day of breaking plates and bitching."

I groan. "The sex talk, you mean."

"Right," says Neville. "We'd just gotten Ali, and we were talking about how eventually that would inevitably come up, and I asked you what we would tell him about men and women as opposed to men and men or women and women."

"And I said, 'Well, why not everything?'"

"And I asked you if you were mad, and that set you off like I don't even know. You didn't give up on it the rest of the day, how Ali should think being gay's just as normal as a man and a woman together."

"And you kept insisting he already knew that, considering the living situation and, oh, God, such a mess."

"We eventually resolved we'd tell him some things, not everything, not explain the mechanics of sodomy because, well, he was 11 when we finally talked to him."

"I remember the last thing you said to me as we were falling asleep was 'I don't plan on going into how to properly sixty-nine."

"I'm a charmer." I grin at him and he kisses me on the cheek, not bothering to check if anyone's watching this time. "Could you think of anything after that?"

"No, not really," says Nev. "Small stuff, I guess. Who gets to wear a Gryffindor tie to a Ministry event. Who has to clean Nymeria's cage. But it's never anything we can't resolve in a few minutes. I don't know if you knew this, Harry, but we make a pretty good pair."

"I've gathered as much. Where to now, then?"

"Forbidden Planet?"

"You and your Muggle comics."

"You know you can't resist the way Aquaman looks once he's in costume."

"Too right. Forbidden Planet it is."


	7. Cardamom

"How's the counseling going?"

Hermione is sitting at the counter in our kitchen, cupping a mug in both hands. I've just perfected a new cardamom-infused tea recipe and she's an unknowing test subject—just told her it was a normal black tea. It's the closest to deceptive or sneaky as I get. Harry knows, and he rolls his eyes at me as I look at her expectantly.

"What'd you do to this tea, Neville?" asks Hermione. "It's delicious."

"Cardamom." I smile and she smiles back widely.

"Counseling's good, though I'm not entirely sure Dr. Jeffries wants us to stay together," she says. "He's mentioned a divorce lawyer once or twice, and I don't like the way Ron nods along with him when he talks about how healthy a clean break can be." She takes another sip and adds, "Regardless, we've been spending more time together."

"And Rhiannon? How is she?" Harry asks.

"She's good. She's happy. She likes spending Saturday nights with her dad, and seeing that we're smiling at each other again. That's what she pointed out is her favorite part. Speaking of, are you sure it's OK for the two of you to take care of her tonight?"

"If it means you and Ron are going on a proper date, then of course it is." I pat her on the arm and she smiles up at me. "More tea?"

"Please."

"Cardamom's a success, then," says Harry, grinning at me.

"I'll have to keep buying it, then," I say. "It's too tricky to grow in our greenhouse. Very temperamental."

Hermione fakes interest. I see through it and say, "So, I read an article in _Transfiguration Today _about possible amendments to the basic laws. Did you see it?"

Her eyes light up. "Yes, that was a fascinating piece. I was especially interested to see the bits about sustenance." She and I discuss the article until Harry's eyes look to be glazing over.

"Well, we've got an Arsenal and Man United game to watch, and you've got a date to get ready for," I say, breaking Hermione out of her academia-induced reverie. "7 pm, then?"

She nods. "Sounds good. Thank you. Both of you. For everything."

I squeeze her shoulder. "Anytime, Hermione." Harry gives her a half hug and she Floos back home.

"Arsenal and Man United, huh?" Harry asks when she's out of sight. "What's that code for?"

"Shagging. But you already knew that."

He grins. "And then Hogsmeade?" We've set up a date with Ali.

"And then Hogsmeade."

A lovely hour and a half later, we're with Ali at a table in the Three Broomsticks. He's slurping up a butterbeer and dousing his fish and chips in malt vinegar while Harry and I share a goat cheese, spinach, and artichoke pizza, Madam Rosmerta's new specialty.

"How's Charms going?" I ask. Asking Ali about his favorite subject is always a good way to get the conversational ball rolling.

"Brilliant!" says Ali, sounding as excited as I get about Herbology or Harry gets about Defence. "I just learned a basic Shield Charm this week, and Professor Flitwick said we're practicing Summoning Charms next week."

"He's changed the curriculum, then," Harry says. "We didn't get to _Accio _until our fourth year."

"Maybe we're just smarter than you were," says Ali, grinning.

Harry ruffles his hair across the table. "More than likely, although I doubt there are any Neville Longbottoms running around the greenhouse these days." He smiles at me.

"You're better off with our last name, Dad," Ali says to me.

"I agree," I say. "Fortescue's after this?"

"That or Honeydukes," says Harry. "Ali, you'll have to choose between sweets or ice cream."

Ali looks thoughtful. "Well, ice cream is better tasting, but sweets last longer, and I can share them with Teddy, Hugo, Henry, Geoff, and Bonnie," he says, blushing at the use of his crush's name on the tail end of a list of his best friends. "Let's go to Honeydukes. Think they'll have licorice wands?"

"If they don't, George's shop will," says Harry. "Let's head over that way. We should visit George."

"When is George going to marry Angelina?" Ali asks as we leave the restaurant and walk to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Dunno, Ali," I say. "Some people don't want to get married."

"Or stay married, right? Like Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione."

Harry looks at me and rolls his eyes. "Boy's too smart for us, Nev. I think they might want to be married again, Ali. We saw Auntie Hermione today and she seems to really like Uncle Ron."

"Well, they are married," he says. "Though they've never liked each other the same way you like each other, Dads."

I laugh, as I usually do when Ali refers to us as 'Dads.' "We do like each other quite a bit." I slip my hand into Harry's and feel his fingers intertwine with mine.

"Ali!" George shouts when he sees our son. A magicked toy helicopter carrying a Norwegian Ridgeback swoops over our heads as we enter the shop. Ali runs to George for a hug. "How's it going? How's Hogwarts? They transferred you to Gryffindor yet?"

Ali shakes his head. "Never. Flitwick likes me too much. And the Grey Lady."

"I swear, you've seen her more than anyone since Luna," Harry says. "How are you, George?"

"Good. Good," he says, grinning and pulling out a black velvet box. "Been carrying this around for the last three weeks, waiting for the opportune moment."

"So they are going to get married," says Ali. "I told you!"

"You never said they were going to," I counter. "You just asked when it was going to happen."

"But I meant they were going to," Ali insists.

"Well, congratulations in advance," says Harry. "When is the opportune moment?"

George shrugs. "I'll know it when I see it. What are you three looking for today?"

"No real plans in mind," I say. "Just had lunch, wanted to stop over here, see if you had licorice wands to save us a trip to Honeydukes. Gotta avoid that temptation, you know."

"I've got a special stock behind the counter," George says with a wink. "First one for each of you is on the house. Anything after that, you're on your own."

Loaded down with licorice wands, we walk Ali back to the castle. He lets us hug and kiss him, though I'm not sure how much longer that'll last, and we use a couple Apparition points to get ourselves back home.

"We've got nothing else to do with our afternoon for the next four hours," says Harry as we pop back into our living room. "You need to do any catching up on anything? Maybe the laws of transfiguration?"

I swat at his arm. "You know I read that stuff just in case I ever want to be a professor again."

"Do you?" he asks, pulling me down to the couch with him. He rearranges himself onto my lap as soon as we're there.

"I don't know. Sometimes I'm tempted. Elena's doing a great job, but..."

"But you could do better." Harry leans back against my chest and I put my arms around his waist. He kisses me on the cheek. "You're very stubbly right now."

I rub my cheek against his. "You like it."

"I do. And I know what you mean. I sometimes think it would be brilliant to get back to Hogwarts, teach some kids how to conjure their Patronuses and disarm their opponents. But then I remind myself how well Terry's doing, and how much I like being an Auror. And I'd be away from you."

"But with Ali."

"Ali's my son, and he's great, don't get me wrong, but he's not my bedwarmer."

"Good to know that's the only purpose I serve," I say, kissing him on the side of the head.

"Not the only one. Just the most important. So you're happy where you are, then?"

"Right now? Yes. Eventually, I could get bored."

"You probably will. But as long as you're satisfied with where we are right now, then I'm satisfied, too."

"Likewise." He turns his head and we kiss. "Thanks for not being too old to sit on my lap."

"Thanks for letting me. I know I've gotten fat."

I laugh. "You and I both know that's impossible. Your metabolism is out of control."

"What's that again?"

I roll my eyes. "Why they don't teach us basic human biological science at Hogwarts is beyond me. That and math. Would that be so wrong?"

"Seriously, what's metabolism?"

"I'm buying you textbooks for your birthday."

"It's only three months away."

"Mine too. Have you found anything?"

"Nothing. You're awful to shop for."

"That's because I already have everything I need."

"With you there."

"So, are we just going to spar the rest of the afternoon?" I ask. "Don't get me wrong, I'm having a great time."

"I can tell."

"Shut it."

"It's been a while since we've done it twice in a day, you know."

"As long as I can get a back massage out of you first."

I feel Harry's lips curve upward against my ear. "Deal."

"And then we watch _An Education_."

"Again?"

"We haven't in two years!"

"Fine."

"Then we order in because I'm too lazy to make you dinner."

"Thai?"

"Sure. And then we go to Ron and Hermione's, which will hopefully be Ron and Hermione's house again soon, officially. And then we watch Rhiannon."

"Sounds like a plan. Bed?"

"Here?"

"But the fireplace..."

I take my wand out of my back pocket and cast a Disillusionment Charm.

Harry grins as I lie back and tug him along with me. "I like the way you think, Mr. Potter."


	8. Someone Else To Occupy My Time

_Harry!_

_I can't stop attaching exclamation points at the end of every sentence I write! Ron and Hermione live in the same place again! Ron will never use the phrase "irreconcilable differences" again! We had a morning shag to celebrate and it was brilliant! You are brilliant and wonderful and the best husband in the world!_

_Alright, this is getting tiresome. But I mean it. I love you. I love you so much, and I hope you need this when you find it, and it makes you smile that smile only I see._

_Love,_

_Nev_

Smiling, I tuck the note back into my shirt pocket, where Nev must've put it this morning. Since I'm in about as good a mood as he is, I don't need any kind of uplifting via love notes, but it's always a welcome surprise.

"Harry," I hear at the door of my office. It's Ginny, a rather harried-looking and disheveled Ginny at that. "I know it's almost lunchtime, but there were a couple things I needed to discuss with you."

I put away what I'm working on and move to the front of my desk, where I perch and face her. "What's going on?"

"It's Michael Corner," she says. "He works in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts and got hit with a horrible Stinging Spell off a Muggle alarm clock someone must've cursed. We're having trouble patching him up. It's a lot more drastic than what we normally see. I was wondering if we should turn it over to the Aurors."

"If I were you," I say, "I'd go to Hestia about it." Hestia Jones took over as department head a few years ago. "She'll evaluate your case notes and let you know who to go to, if not her. She's out today, but she'll be back tomorrow at 7."

Ginny nods and licks her lips, looking more nervous than I've ever seen her.

"Anything else?" I ask, eager to get back to my current case, a rash of lethifold attacks in Wales.

"There's something I've been wanting to say to you for a long time now, Harry," says Ginny, taking a step closer to me. "And I thought I could keep it quiet and buried, but I can't anymore."

I heave a deep sigh. "I think I know where you're going with this, and I—"

She puts a finger to my lips. "Just hear me out. I've been looking at my relationship with Dean, and it's not what it used to be. I feel detached and utterly alone, and the only time those feelings go away is when I'm with you. Surely you've noticed we still have a connection."

"Nope, I haven't," I say. "And if I have, it's purely one-sided, and certainly not on mine."

"I can't believe that, Harry. I really can't. The way you look me in the eye when we're talking, the way you laugh at my jokes, even when they're terrible, just the way you treat me like I'm the only girl in the world."

I rack my brain, trying to locate a time when I've done that last bit, and come up empty. "Ginny, if you think I'm still interested in you..."

"I think you are." She takes another step toward me and I lean back as far as I can.

I laugh shortly. "I've been in love with Nev from the first time we kissed six years ago. He's my husband and my best friend and the only one of those I'll ever need. If you think Neville can't fulfill my needs, then you clearly don't know me at all."

"But Harry—"

"Am I interrupting something here?" I look past Ginny at the open door, where Neville is standing, a paper bag from our favorite Indian restaurant in hand.

"No, nothing at all, Nev," I say, smiling at him. "Ginny was just leaving." I try to add an air of finality to the statement, but it doesn't deter Ginny from swooping toward me and hooking her arms around my neck.

"At least let me give you something to remember me by," she purrs, affixing her lips to mine. I freeze up and look over at Neville, who's holding back laughter. He'll hear about that later. Ginny pulls away with a dramatic smack of her lips, turns on her heel, and saunters out.

"Shut the door behind her," I say. He complies, and I can tell he's still biting back a laugh. I hop off my desk and walk across the office to him, pulling him toward me for a kiss just as searing as what Ginny had hoped to accomplish.

"Missed me, then?" Nev asks, sounding amused.

"That was not a good way to cap off a morning," I say. "She, well, I suppose you can guess."

"She revealed her incredibly obvious feelings for you and insisted you had some for her as well?"

"Got it in one."

"Precious."

"Were I not professional to a fault, I'd bend you over this desk you've effectively pinned me to and take you right here," I say. "You know, just to remind myself completely of what I have with you."

"It's a shame you're so good at your job," Nev says with a sigh. "Otherwise I'd let you before having a go at it myself."

"I know you would. That's why you're such a damned good husband."

"I thought we could take the food you forced me to drop on your desk when you ravaged me just now and eat it down in the lunchroom with Ron. Sound good?"

"Sounds great, so long as we can bypass the Spell Damage department," I say. "I'm not going to be able to look at Ginny for a week without slamming my head against the nearest wall."

We stop by Ron's office. The man is grinning like an idiot for obvious reasons; as of last night, he's back together with his wife and thrilled about it.

"I got you some samosas, Ron," says Neville. "More accurately, I bought a couple dozen and we're all going to fight for them."

"Brilliant," Ron says. "Want to take it outside? I haven't seen it this warm in April in years."

Once we're sitting down, Ron, who seems fit to burst, says, "I had sex this morning for the first time in over six months."

"Thanks for that, Ron," says Nev, smiling. "For the record, we had sex, too, but it was for the first time in about three days."

"Of course you'd brag about that," Ron says. "Can't we just celebrate me right now? Me and Hermione and the fact that I'm still married? And happy about it?"

"Sure," I say around a mouthful of samosa. They're these deep fried pockets of vegetables and all manner of delicious filling that Nev discovered three months ago, and we can't get enough of them. It's like the BLTs all over again. "Thanks for the owl, by the way."

"Of course. We thought that after the kids, you'd want to be the first to know."

"You were right," I say. "I suppose you don't have to go through the whole rigmarole of telling your family. That's nice."

"Rigmarole?"

"That's my husband, using words like 'rigmarole' in casual conversation," Neville says, patting me on the arm.

"Yeah, it is nice," says Ron. "Percy seemed really down about it, though, losing a roommate and not having someone to talk to about separation anymore."

"Do he and Audrey ever talk about getting back together?" asks Nev.

"No. I don't think Audrey wants to see him more than twice a year at King's Cross."

"Well, hey, at least Percy's keeping to himself rather than going after those already spoken for." Neville grins and I roll my eyes at him.

"Your dear sister confronted me about how I'm still in love with her in my office before lunch," I explain to Ron.

"Oh, bloody hell," he says, putting a hand to his forehead as though he's genuinely distressed. "That ended more than ten years ago. Unless, of course, you're still carrying a torch, Harry."

I laugh. "Nope. I can safely say I've found someone else to occupy my time, and did quite a while ago. I just feel horrible for Dean."

"Maybe I'll mention Dr. Jeffries to him sometime," says Ron, sounding thoughtful. "It'd have to be casual, of course. Guess I could leave that to Hermione."

"It's really good to hear you say things like that again, Ron," Neville says, patting him on the arm.

"It is," says Ron. "It really is."


	9. What A Way To Start Your Week

I hear a sharp knock at the door in the middle of my lazy Monday morning. There's only one deadline to meet this week, since the journal only publishes once between May and July and it's not even June yet. Well, it will be next Monday, but that's an entire week away, and I already have all the articles on hand. I just need to edit them and send them over to the publisher. Which I'm incredibly slow about, especially on Mondays. I run my hands through my hair and make my way from the study to the front door.

"Hi, Neville," says Ginny, smiling shakily. She's holding a bag from Eat, my favorite restaurant for takeaway breakfast. "I got you a salmon and egg muffin. Is that still your favorite?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Come on in. How'd you remember?" I walk with her to the kitchen and we sit at the counter.

"We used to have breakfast together a lot, Neville. It was one of the highlights of my week before Dora was born."

"I liked it, too. I'm guessing that's not the only reason you're here."

Ginny nibbles at her cheese and marmite toast, hesitates, and says, "I came to apologize for my behavior around Harry since ... well, since ever, I suppose. After he rejected me, I did a lot of thinking and a lot of talking with Hermione. She helped me to understand that the two of you are just so happy and settled and in love, even more than you were when you got married." She shakes her head and laughs a little. "I just didn't want to see that on my own, I guess." She smiles, though it's still as shaky as before. "Dean and I are seeing Dr. Jeffries, Ron and Hermione's old counselor. It's going really well. I'm remembering now why we got married. Dean's really, really great. And really, really understanding."

"That's good."

"I know I'm probably not in the clear just because I brought you breakfast and said I'm sorry."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

Ginny takes one look at me before bursting into tears and fastening her arms around me. Not for the first time, I'm extraordinarily thankful for my homosexuality, because for the life of me, I could never, ever understand women.

"I knew you'd say that. I knew you would, because you're the sweetest and kindest and best friend anyone could ever have, and I'm so, so, so glad that Harry has someone like you." She hugs me ever tighter and I put my arms around her, though much looser than what could now be described as her death grip on my body.

"I'm glad, too. And I'm really happy for you and Dean. And that you came over here."

"I'm sorry it took me six years," she said, letting go of me and wiping at her eyes.

"It took me ten to tell Harry I loved him," I say with a shrug. "If that's not worse, I don't know what is."

"But you told him, and you're in love, and you have such a beautiful family, you and him and Ali. There should be more families like yours, Neville. The world would be a much happier place."

"It's nice to hear you say that, Ginny."

"Anytime you need to hear it, just ask." She smiles. "It's the least I can do."

When Harry arrives home from work in the evening, he's carrying food from Eat.

"Eat should send me a personal letter of thanks for my business," I say, putting the food out on the kitchen counter after kissing Harry on the cheek. "How was work?"

"Good. Why do you say that?"

"Ginny brought it over this morning when she came here and apologized." I hand Harry a butterbeer, feeling celebratory somehow, and get one for myself before sitting down and digging into my spinach and mushroom pie. He stares at me, goggle-eyed and unable to take a bite of his mash and gravy.

"Ginny came here and apologized?"

"She did. She even brought me food. And you know I can't not forgive someone who brings me food."

"That's incredibly sweet and out of character for her. She's very ... not that way." He takes his first bite. "God. I forgot how orgasmic these are."

"The concept of dinner inside a pie is nothing if not orgasmic."

"So, what'd she say?"

"She's sorry, we're amazing and the pinnacle of romantic happiness—she didn't use that phrase but I kind of like it, don't you? And she and Dean are going to counseling and working things out. Then she cried a lot and hugged me too hard and I thought about how nice it is to be gay."

Harry laughs. "Glad you still think so. Wow. What a way to start your week."

"Yes, it was unexpected, but really lovely of her to do. You've got some mash on your face." I lick the corner of his mouth.

"Oi! Give me some warning when you're about to assault my face with your tongue! We're not 16."

"No, but it's fun to pretend, isn't it? It'd be more fun if Ron were here, actually."

"They're coming for dessert." Harry gestures at the bag. "Lemon cheesecake."

"You're good at being a husband."

"I do what I can. I'm sorry I don't have any stories as exciting as yours about my day. Oh, we finally got the lethifold infestation to calm down. Had to lend out the invisibility cloak as a decoy."

"Good thing Ali doesn't have it yet."

"Someday. I don't think he'd use it how I did anyway, but I might as well have him hold out on temptation a bit longer."

"So what's on the docket now?"

"On the docket is a Muggle artefact smuggling ring that the Misuse office can't handle anymore. We clean up their messes with some regularity."

I hear the crack of Apparition, and Ron and Hermione materialize in the kitchen. Hermione's holding a bottle of mulled mead and Ron's grinning just as wide as he did when they first got back together.

"I don't know how well mead goes with cheesecake, but I thought we'd give it a try," says Hermione. "I got it from Ginny today. She sent it as a thank you for recommending Dr. Jeffries."

"Ginny's been a busy girl today," I say. "She came by and apologized this morning for all that 'still in love with Harry' business. She's not anymore, to clarify. At least, I don't think she is."

"No, she's given up, from what I know," says Hermione. "I've been talking with her about it a lot."

"She mentioned that. Thanks."

"I owed you." Hermione smiles. "Sorry to interrupt while you're still eating."

Harry waves his hand. "That's fine. Sorry you missed the part where Nev was licking food off my face."

"I'm not sorry for that," says Ron with a mock shudder. "We should eat dessert out on the deck. It's gorgeous outside. I bet the kids hated being in class today."

"I bet they will all this week," Harry says. "The last month was always the worst." I hand out the slices of cheesecake and pour out some mead, and the four of us walk outside together.

"We're all going to the station together, right?" asks Hermione. "Ron hasn't been able to snag a Ministry car this time, and I know you always find a way, Harry."

"Hey, I never even asked," Ron says. "Hestia does like Harry better than me, though. So yeah, let's rely on him instead."

Harry rolls his eyes. "It's taken care of. It was harder this time since there'll be so many of us. When'd you guys have all those kids?"

"They do seem to pop up out of nowhere," says Hermione, putting a hand to her belly and smiling at Ron, who takes her other hand in both of his.

I look at them, slackjawed. "Another one?" I manage.

Hermione nods, looking ecstatic. "Seven months. Must've happened the day Ron moved back in."

"Congratulations!" Harry and I say in tandem. "If I wasn't filling myself with cheesecake, I'd hug you both," Harry adds, putting another forkful in his mouth.

"Thanks for your consideration, mate," says Ron, who's grinning like mad. "We haven't told the kids yet. Don't know how that age gap will work out."

"Personally, I think it'd be kind of fun to have such a younger sibling," I say. "Granted, it would've been fun for me to have any siblings at all." I look at Harry, who nods almost imperceptibly. "We've been thinking of adopting again."

"Oh, that'd be lovely," says Hermione. "A baby this time?"

"Probably not," Harry says. "Getting Ali when he was four turned out really well for us. If it's possible, we'd love to do that again." I elbow him and he rolls his eyes. "Yes, Nev, I hear what you're not saying. We'd look for a girl this time."

"Would you go through Andromeda again?" asks Ron.

Harry nods. "We've been one hundred percent satisfied with her services so far. Why not give it another go?"

"So we're going to tell Ali when we pick him up next week," I say, slipping my hand into Harry's. "He's always wanted a little brother or sister. Hopefully he hasn't changed his mind."

"You guys are great parents," says Hermione.

"So are you," Harry says, then laughs.

"What's funny?" Ron asks him.

"I was just thinking, the first time we all met, Nev was looking for Trevor, Hermione was pointing out the dirt on Ron's nose, and I still hadn't worked out why everyone knew my name." Harry squeezes my hand. "It's a little different now, isn't it?"

"Just a tad," I say. "You still don't seem to understand why anyone would ever want to pay attention to you, Ron's still got something on his face, cheesecake this time, and, well, we're about to start looking for a daughter. That's not too far off from a pet, right?"

Hermione shakes her head, Ron laughs, and Harry leans over to kiss me on the cheek. "I think we'll learn the difference soon," he says.x


	10. Sophie

Sable comes before Sophie, but not by much. It's Ali who chooses her name, saying it's just a pretty sounding word, and she's a pretty looking dog. That's entire true. She's a black lab puppy who causes substantially less trouble than we'd anticipated, mostly because Nev knows to keep the greenhouse locked and Ali does more than his share of work with her. Actually, once he leaves again for Hogwarts, we're going to have our hands full. But I try not to think about that even as we make our way into King's Cross. It's not what I want to dwell on when things are so incredibly perfect the way they are.

A month after we got Sable, Neville, Ali, and I had a meeting with Andromeda Tonks at her orphanage, just to discuss preliminary paperwork and the like. That's when we saw an almost aggressively adorable little blonde girl dressing herself up as a Holyhead Harpy and pummeling a boy with a stuffed Beater bat.

"That one," Ali said, pointing to her. "She's going to be my sister."

Umpteen forms and three weeks later, she was. Sophie's parents were dragon tamers who'd fallen prey to a Hungarian Horntail that hadn't been properly anaesthetized. She had no conscious memory of them, as her now deceased grandmother had taken care of Sophie after her parents died. Around the time she turned four, Sophie arrived at the orphanage, by far the most talkative, active girl Andromeda had ever seen, with a wild imagination and ambitions of mediwizardry, professional Quidditch, and Lord knows what else.

What with all the recent additions to the Potter household, Ali's not quite so excited to return to Hogwarts this year. He lets Sophie hold his hand as we walk through the station. Nev and I stay a few steps behind them, overhearing snatches of conversation as Sophie explains why Chinese Fireballs are by far the greatest dragons in the world.

"You wanted a child who appreciated dragons, didn't you?" Neville asks me, intertwining his fingers with mine.

"I did. And she does. Far more than I ever have."

"It'll be kind of nice to have someone around the house again during the school year. Not that I'll ever get any work done with Sophie there."

"You'd never complain about that," I say, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Definitely not."

"And you'll be there, too. Something tells me the journal's about to become a quarterly." He smiles wryly. I'm taking time off work for an indeterminate period, like I did when Ali joined our family.

"I'm not too bad a distraction, am I?" I lean over to nuzzle against his neck.

"Oi! There are kids everywhere, Harry. Don't want to give them any ideas."

"Are you kissing?" Sophie looks over her shoulder at us, keeping a tight hold on Ali's hand. "Don't kiss at King's Cross. Ali's not going to kiss Bonnie when he sees her."

Ali blushes as we approach the platform. "Bonnie's not my girlfriend, Sophie."

"Yes, she is, and you're not going to kiss her, because I'm here, and I'm your sister."

"Why would that mean anything?" He tickles her and she shrieks with laughter. "Dads! Make him stop!" Sophie's picked up Ali's habit of calling the two of us "Dads." It's not the only habit of his she mimics, but it's probably the most endearing.

"You have everything, Ali?" I ask him.

He gestures to the trunk he's dragging by its handle and holds up Loki's cage. Loki hoots and Sophie giggles. "And my robes are at the top so I can change before we get there. Don't worry, Dads. I have this." Ali grins and gives us both a hug—no kisses, now that he's a teenager. Sophie gets a free pass, though, as she hugs him tightly and kisses him on the cheek.

"Love you all," he says with a final wave, running to catch up with the already seated Hugo Weasley and Teddy Lupin. Ron, Hermione, and Rhiannon come over from dropping off Hugo and a tearful Rose, who always has trouble saying goodbye.

"When's he coming back?" Sophie asks, taking one of Nev's hands and one of mine.

"For Christmas," says Neville. "But we'll probably visit him in Hogsmeade sooner than that."

"I'm going to miss him," Sophie declares. Hermione smiles at me.

"We'll miss him, too, Soph," I say. "But now you get Sable all to yourself. Just don't play dress up with her anymore, OK? We've talked about that. She doesn't like it very much."

"But she looks so pretty with a crown on."

"I know she does. But it hurts her, the same way your black shoes with the straps hurt you."

"Can I get new ones?" Sophie asks, sidetracked. "Ones that fit and don't pinch my toes?"

"Maybe Rosie or Rhi have some that you could wear," says Nev, looking at Hermione hopefully. Hermione shakes her head, and he groans, adding, "Or maybe we could go into town and go shopping later."

Sophie squeals and Ron laughs. "I didn't know girls could love shoes as much as they loved dragons," he says.

"Neither did we," I say. "But there you have it."

"If you didn't want to go shopping, Rhiannon just got a new Exploding Snap set that she wants to try out," says Hermione. "Rhi, do you think you could play with Sophie?"

"Only if you let me win once," Rhiannon says to Sophie. "You always beat me."

"Why would I let you win?" Sophie wrinkles her nose. "That's no fun for me."

"But it's fun for me!"

Sophie lets go of her hands and runs to Rhiannon, presumably to finish their argument. Within a few hours, the Exploding Snap games have drawn to a close, dinner has been enthusiastically consumed, and we're back at our place. By the time Nev comes back from the kitchen with the milk Sophie requested a glass of, she's asleep on the couch. I carry her to her room and Neville comes along with me, tucking her favorite blanket under her shoulders, along with the stuffed Chinese Fireball she sleeps with every night.

"It's only 6:30," says Nev quietly. "She's never asleep at 6:30."

"Apparently we need to go to King's Cross more often," I say as we walk out of the room and down the stairs. "Looks like we don't have anything else to do for the rest of the night, then, do we?"

"Makes me wonder why we even came back downstairs," says Neville, pulling me to his chest. He kisses me and, as ever, I melt into him with the enthusiasm of a 16-year-old who's finally getting to second base.

I pull back to tell him I love him, and he smiles. "I love you, too. And I love our son, and our daughter, and our stupid dog who's probably chewing up some shoes to get our attention right now."

"Poor dog. We can afford more shoes, but Sophie going to bed early, you can't put a price on that."

"Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

"Want to race?"

"Do you have to ask?" I shoot past him and up the stairs, casting a Silencing Charm over the area so Soph doesn't have to hear her parents doing things she won't understand for years to come.

"You cheated! There wasn't a countdown or anything!" Nev tears after me, and I laugh as he nearly catches up with me on the landing, reaching the bed only seconds after I lay down.

"You're so cute when you're pissed at me," I say, pushing his hair out of his face and kissing him on the forehead.

"Not as cute as you are when you're all sweaty from running all of a hundred feet," says Nev. "I bet I know what'll make you sweatier, though."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, I think I do."

"Well, then. I think it's your turn to show me, Mr. Potter."

"I'll do so willingly, Mr. Potter," he says. After he has, we lie facing each other, tracing each other's facial features and appreciating the afterglow like we so often can't.

"Do you think it would be OK if I never fell out of love with you?" Nev asks me, tucking some stray strands of hair behind my ear.

"Only if it's OK if I never fall out of love with you."

"I guess I'll allow it."

"Then I guess I'll allow it on your part, too."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

"That's good enough for me."


	11. Author's Note and Playlist

Well, here we are, then.

This one was just as fun to write as "Brilliant," though a touch more dour. Even now, I don't want to give up on this particular narrative, so next comes "The Way We Were," a prequel to "Brilliant" by many years. Hope you liked the sequel, and watch out for the next one.

-fennecfawkes

This story's playlist, in no particular order:

The Hold Steady, "Southtown Girls"

Ben Folds, "Gone"

The cast of _The Muppets_, "Life's a Happy Song"

Frank Sinatra, "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning"

Michael Buble, "Dream a Little Dream of Me"

Richard Cheese, "Down with the Sickness"

The Hold Steady, "Killer Parties"

Weird Al Yankovic, "Skipper Dan"

Vitamin String Quartet, "Yellow"

The Strokes' _Is This It _album

Season two of _The Vampire Diaries_


End file.
